Xander Potter
by stephenopolos
Summary: YAHF reversed, Xander goes from halloween to waking up in the cupboard under the stairs.
1. Chapter 1

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Xander woke to something loud pounding on the door and groggily sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"Up!" came the shrill screech of what he thought must be a banshee, before he heard footsteps walking and then the sound of a frying pan being put on the stove. He grumbled and pushed the blanket away sitting up only to bang his head on the stairs.

He winced and looked up, what was he doing in a small crawlspace underneath a staircase? He wondered. One moment he'd been leading a pack of children on the annual great quest for candy, and the next he was waking up here.

Carefully he felt around the room, before his hands hit a string hanging down in front of him. He gave it a tug hoping it was for an overhead light. Success! His spartan accommodations were revealed, beyond just the sliver of light that filtered in around the edge of the door.

Xander looked around in disgust. It was a depressingly small room; if what appeared to be a cupboard under the stairs could be called a room. The lady with the shrill voice was back at the door again.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Give me a moment," he called breathing heavily.

He doubled over as a sudden pain flared through his skull and he ran his fingers over his forehead instinctively to massage the pressure away. He ran his fingers through his hair and across his forehead, freezing in shock as he felt a jagged line.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddey's birthday."

That wasn't supposed to be there! His costume last night had a scar like that; but it was just makeup! The pain behind the scar kept building, until it felt like something released as the never quite healed scar burst open and he felt something wet drip down.

Xander groaned involuntarily.

"What did you say?" Petunia snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing..." All the while Xander wondered, _Duddey? What sorry excuse for a parent name's someone Duddey?_ A memory hit him of a fat spoiled brat of a kid, and he winced. The crazy shop owner, Evan... no, Ethan? That was it; Ethan had convinced him to go as a wand waving wizard. The guy had managed to talk him into accepting a vastly discounted costume of, a glasses wearing wizard, with a scarred forehead, he'd even given him a small character sheet with a basic background. He'd muttered something about it being a mockup costume for an author friend.

What was the character's name again? Harvy? Hammy? Harry! The pain in his forehead was starting to go away making it easier to think. He looked around the room again, and grabbed the blanket to wipe the ichor off his face and hands. But that character was older, he felt like he was in a body of about age nine or ten. Not fifteen years old.

He looked down, these were clearly not his hands. He forced himself to calm down and examine the room around him. He started looking for clothes, scowling in disapproval at the slightly oversized pair of pants and shirt. He found a pair of socks under the bed and after flinging a spider off one of them, put them on.

Opening the door to the cupboard he froze as he caught the reflection in the mirror, thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. The severity of the situation hit him like a train wreck. Something hellmouthy had happened, and now he wasn't even in his own body anymore. His eyes darted to his forehead and the vaguely lightning bolt shaped scar that had freshly scabbed over.

A large fat man, Xander labeled as Vernon, entered the kitchen as he was turning over the bacon.

"Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting, and Xander got the impression that this was a fairly regular occurrence.

He'd moved onto the eggs by the time Petunia reappeared in the kitchen behind what Xander immediately dubbed as a land-whale. Dudley looked alarmingly like his father, Vernon; he had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Altogether, 'Dudley' gave Xander the distinct impression of an overly large pig that someone had stuck a wig on.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, its here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face.

Xander, who could see a huge tantrum coming, was forcing himself not to pay any attention to what was obviously a spoiled brat. He had the urge to reach over and smack the kid, tell him he was a spoiled fat tub of lard who didn't appreciate the things he had in life.

Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that alright?"

The entertainment value, and his own instinctive self-preservation kept Xander's mouth firmly closed. Xander hoped this was all temporary and that he'd wake up back in his own body in Sunnydale, but for the sake of not ruining it for the kid whose body he was currently in, he would hold his peace. At least for now, if he was still here tomorrow him and Mrs. Dursley would be having words about the accommodations.

Xander looked up at Dudley as the other boy's face scrunched up in concentration. All that thinking must be such hard work, Xander snarked in his head, having to fight the sudden urge to smirk.

"So I'll have thirty... thirty..." the land-whale flailed at the number.

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," Mrs. Dursley provided.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

Xander heard the phone ring, but, was too busy watching as Dudley continued to make a mess on the floor, further lowering Xander's opinion of the boy with each present.

"Rotten news, Vernon," Petunia said as she re-entered the room. "That was Mrs. Figg; she's broken her leg and can't take him." She jerked her head in Xander's direction.

Dudley froze, mid rip, the wrapping paper in his hand falling to the ground. Xander just watched on unsure how to take the announcement. Petunia glared in his direction as though he had somehow planned this sudden change of events in her otherwise perfectly orchestrated life

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy." Petunia's tone conveyed the absurdity of the idea.

The name Mrs. Figg made him think of cabbage and cats for some reason. Xander pushed the topic to the back of his mind, doing his best to only pay enough attention for important details. He was drawn back to the conversation when Dudley began to cry, loudly, and in Xander's opinion obviously faked.

"I don't... want... him t-t-o come!" Xander watched in fascination as the boy yelled his protest in between huge pretend sobs. "He's going to ruin everything just like he always does." The land whale shot him a grin from beneath his mother's arms.

The tantrum was interrupted though by the sudden ring of the doorbell, and Dudley dashed off to answer the door as his mother paled and frantically exclaimed, "Dear lord, they're here." A moment later and Dudley walked back into the room pulling another boy and followed by his mother.

Half an hour later and Xander, who was slightly dreading this visit to the zoo, considering his last visit had saddled him with a head companion that had almost hurt his girls, was sitting in the back of the Dursley's car and pondering the weird cryptic warning Vernon had given.

"I'm warning you," Vernon had said his face inches from Xander's, "I'm warning you now, boy — any funny business, anything at all — and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

Xander just nodded in acceptance for the moment and resolved to have that talk about their treatment that much sooner; his green eyes glinting in a manner almost reminiscent of the green glow from the hyena.

The car ride was mostly silent though Vernon complained about the traffic and the places they passed, while Petunia's scathing commentary on the state of the neighborhood had ended a few short minutes after leaving Little Whinging.

Xander was wondering just what was wrong with this family, it was several minutes into the trip, as Vernon's complaints while fairly normal in most respects always seemed to find their way back towards the original owner of Xander's current body; at the moment he was going on about motorcycles: "…roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them. "Boy, if I ever catch you even thinking about riding one of those blasted things..." Xander ignored the rest of the admonishment.

And a memory of a dream hit Xander like a sack of bricks, he was staring up at the sky while the sound and feel of a motorcycle lulled him. He kept his mouth firmly shut.

Xander silently observed as Vernon was forced to buy him a frozen lemonade from the ice cream truck, because the lady in the van had asked what he wanted before Mrs. Dursley could shepherd them away. He could see there was something off about how the two adults treated Dudley and his host but he put it off as they walked through the zoo.

Walking through the lion exhibit, he froze mid bite as the hair on the back of his neck stood, slowly he turned around to see the lioness sitting on the other side of the glass.

He got the distinct impression that it was looking directly at him, and only him. Slowly the lioness lowered her head keeping her eyes centered on him. He slowly turned and walked back towards the Dursleys, every so often he'd turn to look back, and see the lioness was still watching him.

Spooked from the eerie behavior of the lioness, Xander didn't notice that they'd walked right into the observation point for the hyena enclosure. Hearing the laughter of the canines he froze. Feeling his legs and arms trembling he looked into the enclosure to see the hyenas too had frozen and were now looking at him. Only this time he felt like they were deferring to his presence.

"No..." he muttered. Feeling light headed, he pushed through the people to the next intersection and a bench to wait for the Dursleys. His frozen lemonade was starting to run, and the cold of the cup made his hand numb. Xander stared ahead and mechanically sipped the melted liquid from the cup.

By the time he saw the Dursleys it was time for lunch, where Vernon bought the cheapest item on the menu for Xander, and Dudley threw an embarrassing tantrum when his dessert wasn't big enough. Of course the remainder of Dudley's first dessert was pushed into Xander's hands, mainly because Vernon didn't believe in wasting, something he'd expounded upon at the time.

After lunch the Dursleys decided Xander would stick a little closer to them, Vernon muttering about the 'boy being trouble' and Dudley wanted to see the reptile house before they left. The inside was dimly lit and slightly damp with a clammy feeling, and all along the walls there were windows showing snakes and lizards of all sorts slithering over bits of wood and stone.

Xander shivered slightly, the place seriously wigged him out.

"Make it move," Dudley whined, drawing Xander's attention to the largest snake in the building. Vernon tapped on the glass, and Xander wondered for a moment if the large man's meaty knuckle would break the glass. But the snake didn't budge and the glass held firm.

Dudley complained about the snake being boring before shuffling off.

Xander slowly approached the exhibit holding the large snake, and heard the snake muttering, "Stupid two-leg, oh for a nice juicy rat."

Xander stepped back in shock. "You speak?"

"Some," the snake muttered in agreement.

"You're not a demon, are you?" Xander asked stupidly.

The snake looked directly at him, as if to imply contempt for even thinking the thought. "Right, just checking," Xander said hastily.

And suddenly he was knocked aside as Dudley's friend called them over with a shout. Xander rolled in reflex to the shove coming up a short distance from the cage. What happened next made him blink—Dudley was inside the cage and the snake was coiling around him, and commenting how it wasn't quite the juicy rat he wanted before sighing and continuing that he'd settle for scaring the boy and then let the servant that brought him food remove the pest from his cage.

Xander just huddled up against the far wall hyperventilating in response to all the strangeness throughout the day, and from the reactions of the Dursley family, this sort of thing was halfway expected even if it was feared, so it wasn't him but rather the person he'd replaced.

Since no one could explain just how the boy had gotten into the cage, and no harm had been done between boy and snake, the Dursley's couldn't do anything but yell for great lengths and with increasing volume about the potential safety hazard poor Dudley had been exposed to.

For the zoo though, it was Dudley's name that went on the list as a safety hazard. For them, the boy had somehow managed to slip past a locked door into a secure area for zoo employees only and then managed to get past a second secure lock into one of their more dangerous specimen in the snake exhibit.

Xander fought back a smirk as the Zoo employee at the snake exhibit had carefully removed Dudley from the snake's coils.

The ride home was made in complete silence, the only break in the tension when they dropped Dudley's friend off. As soon as they entered the door Vernon rounded on him, his face purple and shaking. "Cupboard... Now... No food."

Xander raised an eyebrow and with his own monosyllabic response, said, "No."

Vernon swung at him and Xander dodged raising his hands in a warding off gesture of defense as a golden shield formed in the air in front of him. He blinked as Vernon's fist grazed the field, the man stumbled back and yelped in shock as he held his arm his fingers now numb and unmoving.

"It's time we had a discussion Vermin," Xander intentionally mispronounced Vernon's name. "Living room I think." Petunia's face was white as she nodded and guided Vernon into the living room.

Dudley, however, didn't like the way this was going. It was his birthday and in his mind the freak had ruined it. He shook his head clear of the shock seeing, the freak disobey his dad, and attempted to sneak around the shield as they walked into the living room. Only the barest hint of a plan in his desire to whack Harry a good one for ruining his birthday.

Unfortunately for him, Dudley didn't appear to know the meaning of the word sneak, he was physically incapable of it, his heavy breathing and the weight of his feet on the floorboards announced his presence behind Xander just in time for the other boy to dodge the attempt.

Dudley found himself floating off the ground unable to move. Petunia squealed, "Duddy! put him down this instant you little freak!" she demanded.

Xander waved a hand and Dudley floated over to the couch and then dropped into the cushion, "Vernon, Petunia, I think it's time we had a chat about my living arrangements."


	2. Chapter 2

**Letters From No One**

The result of the day's events, left Xander confused, disturbed and probably more than a little scared. He was unnerved at how the universe seemingly broke when the Dursley's behavior finally reached a level that shattered his emotional control; while his parent's hadn't been the best, they certainly hadn't made him live in a cupboard under the stairs.

He rolled over and looked around at the room, wrinkling his nose. It was better than the tiny little cupboard he'd woken up in that morning, the large bed seemed comfortable enough. But, it wasn't his room, not really, it wasn't the room of Xander Harris, Sunnydale High's slacker and class clown. He paused for a moment and considered going back out and taking over Dudley's second bedroom, clearing the smaller bedroom would give him something to do. But, after a few moments, he decided that he didn't want to hear the heavier child whine.

Eventually, Xander decided that regardless of the decorations, the bedroom was better than the cupboard, it was practically palatial, compared to the cupboard. The walls where covered with a burgundy floral patterned wallpaper and there was a matching thick burgundy throw rug on the floor next to the bed. He fell asleep staring at the ceiling.

The next morning after the excitement and general shock over having magic had worn off, Xander started going over everything he'd learned in the past year about magic, including writing it all down using some scratch paper from the small roll top desk in the corner of the room.

Willow's cheat sheet was the first thing he tried to copy down from memory; he remembered trying them for a week or so, after Willow badgered him into it, before giving it up.

At the time he wasn't willing to sink the work into it, and given his general slacker attitude he figured he'd never be a Luke Skywalker. But, before he had given up, the closest he'd managed was rolling the pencil off the desk; though, he wasn't sure if that was him or just the angle of the desk.

Xander snorted at the memory, and looked back down at his notes only to blink in shock.

"What the hellmouth?" he exclaimed, one of the pencils he'd grabbed out of the holder dropped from it's slow rotation above the paper.

His thoughts were interrupted by Vernon pounding on the door. The Dursley male yelled, "Boy you will come out of that room and go to your cupboard!" He must have magicked the door closed the previous night, or the adult's had been too shocked to try anything while he'd been asleep.

Xander ignored the pounding on the door, which would become a regular occurrence for the days following his decision to take a proactive approach in improving his lot in this life.

By the third day, the confrontation with his newly appointed bedroom door had escalated to Vernon imitating a battering ram. The heavy impact of the older man's meaty shoulder upon the door saw the entire house shake and cracks form around the door frame.

"Of course it can't be simple," he groaned to himself as he looked up from the paper he'd snagged early that morning. His groan was from the date on the paper, which read, June 28th, 1991. Xander set the paper aside with an annoyed expression and walked over to the door. He calmly opened it and stepped aside as Vernon barreled into the room hit his head on the opposite wall, falling to the floor in surprise.

"If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was knock and ask politely," Xander said standing at Vernon's side as the larger man wobbled and slumped to the ground.

After a few moments of trying to get Vernon's attention, Xander hooked Vernon's arm over his shoulder and walked the dazed man out of the room.

He had a blessed two whole days of silence after that, before Vernon worked up the nerve to try again.

**~*XP*~*XP*~**

It was the first week of July, and the end of his first week with the Dursley's. After an hour of ignoring the shouted threats and pounding, Xander looked up from the small desk when the thud of Vernon's meaty fist slamming against the door was followed, by a pained shout, and a softer thud of the big man sitting down heavily in the hallway.

All along the wall there were tiny stress cracks from Vernon's battering. Xander calmly opened the door to find the man lying on the floor cradling his bruised and rapidly purpling fists. Xander reached down to examine his hands, pausing only for a moment in surprise when his hand started to glow and the bruises started to fade.

After that, the Dursley's tactics shifted from extraction to confinement. Not that Vernon was trying very hard anymore, or that it did them any good; as Xander ignored their efforts as he explored the neighborhood and his new surroundings.

The next morning Xander snorted as he caught a few lines here and there as the older Dursley's argued.

"Right then, if he wants the room, he can have it," Vernon growled in the kitchen, on the table before him was an electric drill, and a door latch kit from the local hardware store.

"What about Marge, darling?" Petunia asked.

"Dudley will just have to clean up the second bedroom," Vernon grumbled.

Xander ignored the sound of the drill until a few minutes later after he heard the car pulling out of the drive, and he tried the door. Frowned he placed a hand where the door frame and door met and pulled on the handle again with a primal growl.

There was a sharp, pinging noise, and the door flew open the latch dropping to the ground, one of the screws embedded into the wall opposite him.

Xander grabbed a bucket of paint, some sawdust and the wood glue from the garage and repaired the screw holes in the door.

When Vernon tried to screw the latch back into place that evening, he burned the motor in the drill, while the screw didn't even dent the paint.

The day after that, Xander tried magic laced suggestions on them at breakfast, feeling like he was trying to pull off a Jedi mind trick. While it worked for about an hour, it left a glassy eyed expression, and he could only handle one adult at a time. It was a crapshoot anyway as he didn't like the scummy, almost oily feeling it left him.

**~*XP*~*XP*~**

By the middle of the third week his actions hadn't gone unnoticed, and the conflict settled into an uncomfortable cold war. Petunia was arguing for putting 'the boy' back into the cupboard when Xander heard Vernon's booming voice.

"Oh, shut yer gob Petunia," Vernon growled. "We tried it your way. The boy spent almost ten years in a cupboard. Said we'd beat the freak out of him..." Vernon's rant trailed off at that point and curious as to what he meant Xander strained to listen, catching only a snatch of, "...cupboard for a bedroom..." and "...not normal..." but couldn't pick up the rest of what he said.

After Vernon's rant, all the Dursleys were walking on eggshells around him. Xander watched them with a guarded expression, if his attention wavered for a moment the situation could end up worse than how it started. Likewise, Dudley, at his mother's urging, was trying to stalk Xander's every move, looking for any opening to put his cousin back in the comfortable box he'd been confined to for the majority of Dudley's existence thus far.

**~*XP*~*XP*~**

The tension had continued to build by the fourth week of his stay, and the fuse on his temper was getting short. So far, he'd seen no evidence in the paper or at night of the darker side of his former life in Sunnydale. There had even been a few nights when he'd spent too long at the local library, much to his chagrin, researching the local mythology.

The first time he'd been locked out, he had panicked until he felt his magic flare and the lock click open for him to slip inside, after that unlocking the door seemed to slowly get easier.

The hostile atmosphere with the Dursley's was fraying his nerves, he was twitching at every shadow and the slightest sound. While it was possible for him to magically order them around like puppets on a string, doing so would make him want to scrub his skin raw to rid himself of the oily feeling, and he'd be exhausted in the process.

After a particularly tense confrontation with the younger Dursley, he decided to attempt one of the more basic rituals he remembered and call upon Apollo to bless the house, and hopefully get a little peace. He had double checked the prayer with a book from the local library on roman mythology, the librarian had looked at him skeptically when he'd asked for the book. The generic form of the ritual had been copied from the book and then carefully modified based on his memories. A lot of this he was making up, half remembered from Giles' books.

Xander drew a line with the table salt he'd nicked from the kitchen pantry, and muttered a small prayer to Mercury thanking him for the easy procurement. When he reached the end he almost dropped the container in shock when the salt shifted and hardened into a circle of solid white salt crystal.

Xander stepped over the circle of salt crystal and everything went quiet. The sounds of the house and street outside were muffled, and he had a feeling that it was the same way on the other side of the circle for what went on within.

Carefully he lit the candles and began his prayer. Within moments a warm breeze stirred around him carrying the quiet strumming of a guitar and laughter. On the altar before him he placed a small container of sunflower seeds he'd picked up from the garden center Petunia frequented and a small slice of pound cake and a glass of lemonade. Maybe not a traditional offering to the sun, but it was offered to the sun god in summer.

The guitar music grew louder as he finished the prayer, he blinked as the offering vanished leaving the container behind. A moment later an intense pressure filled the space he was sitting in and the breeze died away, the music stopping but the feeling of sun on his skin kept getting stronger, almost to the point it was unbearable, any longer and he felt as though he'd be a giant walking sunburn. Then the circle dissolved and the intense heat faded away with a blast of warm air that flooded the room and blew the bedroom door open as it went throughout the house touching every room before swirling around the yard and dissipating.

Downstairs, Petunia placed breakfast on the table and called the everyone down, not even noticing she'd called all of them including yelling for Xander even if she called for him by the name of Harry instead.

She informed him that she was taking Dudley into London to pick up his school uniform and she'd spoken with Mrs. Figg down the street if he'd like to stay there.

Shrugging Xander went along with the plan. It turned out the day he'd arrived, she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and given the frosty glares he kept catching her give them, it was obvious the she was no longer feeling quite as charitable towards them.

He felt awkward trying to interact with the elderly lady, and the cats were giving him the wiggins, but she let him watch TV, and while the chocolate cake tasted stale he wasn't one to turn down sweets. He had a brief moment of insalubrity while eating the cake, as he pined after his beloved Twinkies.

Vernon still didn't like him, but he was resigned to the situation. Dudley had given up, and spent most of his time with his little gang of delinquents harassing easier marks. While Petunia still gave him the occasional evil eye and tried to order him around.

**~*XP*~*XP*~**

By the time Xander yawned and rolled out of bed on the fifth week, he had just about come to terms with the situation. While he had hope that his friends would find him and switch him back, he was settling in for a prolonged campaign. The local newspaper didn't inspire confidence, proclaiming the year to be 1991, and he was still here stuck in the body of an eleven year old with weird magic abilities. Of course, what he didn't know about the situation would be revealed shortly.

On this particular morning, Xander was greeted by a horrible smell as he entered the kitchen. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink.

"What's that?" he asked, eyeing the tub which was full of what looked like rags floating in dirty gray water.

Petunia frowned as though trying to remember something before she spoke, "I'm dying some of Dudley's old things gray. But I may have to give it up for a loss and just get you a new uniform."

The Dursley males entered the room and wrinkled their noses at the smell. Vernon opened his newspaper while Dudley reached with a fork to pull some food onto his plate from the serving dish in the center of the table.

A few minutes into breakfast, they heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters onto the doormat.

"Harry, be a dear and get the mail would you?" Petunia asked absentmindedly before returning to her quiet conversation about the Lady next door.

Xander grumbled a bit before deciding it wasn't worth it to argue and went to get the mail.

Four things were lying on the doormat: a postcard from Vernon's sister Marge, who was apparently vacationing somewhere named the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked very much like a bill, something from Dudley's new school and – a letter addressed to Harry.

Xander frowned, the letter itself wasn't all that odd aside from being addressed to an apparent ten going on eleven year old. What made it stand out to him was the clearly written green ink on the front:

Mr. H Potter

The guest bedroom at the end of the hallway.

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

He scowled at the precision of the letter and tucked the odd envelope under his waistband in the back and then slipping his shirt over it.

Xander walked back into the kitchen and placed the mail on the table next to Mr. Dursley before retaking his seat. Methodically chewing through the rest of his breakfast.

"Marge's ill," Vernon informed Petunia as he examined the mail, snorting at the bill.

Xander excused himself retreating back up the stairs to his room to open the envelope.

He stared incredulously at the emerald green ink on the yellowing parchment. What the dickens was Hogwarts, it sounded like some sort of disease, and who was Albus Dumbledore and why did he need so many titles behind his name.

He blinked at the greeting: Dear Mr. Potter... pleased to inform... witchcraft... wizardry.

Was he interested? Free training? All the supernatural powers and abilities in the world at his fingertips just for attending a school run by an oddly named guy with too many titles? Damn straight he was interested!

Await his owl no later than July 31? How the devil was he supposed to get an owl?

Xander paused for a moment and looked back through the letter. Minerva, goddess of wisdom, and the owl, a creature generally associated with having wisdom.

Xander stopped and set the letter down, wondering if Apollo dropped her a line after answering the ritual.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Keeper of the Keys**

Xander stared at the green ink on the mostly innocent, if a bit old fashioned looking envelope. It was addressed to Harry, not Xander. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. Was that supposed to be a hint from Apollo or Minerva?

He sighed and picked the letter up again, recognizing the parchment it was written on by the feel, as some of the older books in the library back home had used parchment. "Await my owl," he muttered, falling back onto the bed, an action he'd repeated so many times he'd left a wrinkled outline.

The letter kept bugging him, enough that he was surprised he'd gotten any sleep the previous night. He paused as a second sheet of paper slipped out from behind the first. Written thereon was a list of books, equipment, and uniform for the year. He skimmed through it and paused over the word wand, wondering why it felt familiar, until he recalled his halloween costume. He'd gone as a wizard, a wand waving wizard.

That was what he'd been missing, a wand, it hadn't quite connected in his head until just that moment, but his halloween costume had been a wizard of the wand waving variety.

**~ XP ~ XP ~ XP ~**

Three days, he'd spent staring at the letter, contemplating the future, trying to decide how exactly he was supposed to reply to the school without an Owl. Xander had considered trying the Apollo ritual a few times over the past day or two, and early the third morning he had; but all he'd gotten out of the ritual was a sense of faint amusement and a slight tan.

A short time later, Xander discovered that the ritual had done the opposite of the usual for magic workings and instead of making him tired had made him hyper. He was still wide awake at the end of the day and with an itch in his fingers to pick up a guitar and start strumming; regardless of if he knew how to carry a tune on the thing or not.

So, he was awake at the end of the day when someone knocked on the Dursley's front door—hard enough that the open bedroom window rattled and dropped closed.

Through the floor he heard a booming voice say, "Sorry 'bout tha', don't know me own strength, a' times."

A short time later Xander heard Vernon hollering, "What the devil is the meaning of this!"

Xander was on the top step of the staircase in no time, observing the scene from the higher vantage point. Vernon was standing at the front door in nightcap and pajamas. The door itself was dented, and the bolt was splintered out from the door.

"Only meant ta knock," a giant of a man, in a thick overcoat said sheepishly.

"By all the..." Vernon lost his words for a moment before sputtering out, "by God, man, have you never heard of a doorbell?" Vernon pointed at the small button to the side of the door.

The half-giant glanced at the button with a dubious expression. "Ah... right..."

Vernon shook his head in disgust; an action mirrored by Xander at the top of the stairs, only Xander's head shake was more because he was amused than disgusted. Of course if it had been his front door he might have been more disgusted than amused.

Vernon made a funny rasping noise as Petunia appeared at the top of the steps. The giant ignoring Petunia and Vernon as he pushed his way inside closed the door with more care than he showed opening it, judiciously flicking his umbrella at it the latch area to 'repair' the damage.

"You're one of them!" Petunia hissed.

Vernon gave a resigned sigh and was about to ask what the man wanted when Dudley brushed past Harry and stupidly asked, "Where's the cannon?"

"Ah, right..." the man muttered into his shaggy beard, his attention drawn to the stairs. "An' there's Harry," he said, spotting Xander who made his way past the Dursleys.

Behind him the Dursley's appeared to have frozen in place for a moment, his presence seemed to have engaged the 'ignore anything strange' portion of his ritual blessing for family peace.

Xander didn't even have a chance to be paranoid as the giant ignored the expression forming on his face and continued, "Las' time I saw you, you was jus a lit'le thing," the giant gestured with his hands. "Yeh've got yer mum's eyes. Anyway — Harry, I know it's not fer a few more days or so, but I got somat fer yah here — might o' sat on em at some point, but they should be fine."

"A very happy early birthday to yeh," from an inside pocket in his black overcoat, he pulled a slightly dented and battered white box with blue and red print on the side and a picture of a yellowed snack cake. "Tha's not..." the giant said looking at the box with a confounded expression.

Xander didn't care as he pounced on the box. "The food of the god's!" he mumbled around a mouthful of Twinkie while the giant and the Dursley's stared disturbed at the boy's behavior.

Remembering himself, Xander looked up at the giant, and said, "Thanks, who're you?"

"Where are my manners?" the giant said absently, "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts."

Xander carefully set the box down on an end table in the hallway and allowed his hand to be seized by Hagrid, an action he almost instantly regretted as it felt as though the giant would shake his arm off.

"How 'bout some tea then," Hagrid said, releasing Harry's arm, and rubbing his hands together. "Mind, I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it."

Xander led the way out of the entry hall and into the kitchen.

"Er, Harry, this 's a muggle kitchen.. it's jus.. well I'm not entirely familiar with all the muggle things in there. Would ya mind?" Hagrid asked, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker which he sheepishly pushed back into another pocket, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from.

"So," Xander said as he put the kettle on the stove and grabbed a cast iron skillet to brown the sausages in. "Good thing you showed up, I was wondering if anyone'd realize, awaiting my owl is no good; considering I don't have one."

Hagrid, gave him a startled look, before clapping a hand to his forehead with a mighty smacking sound, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl — a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl — a long quill, and a roll of parchment. "Should'a realized, what with yeh livin with the muggles, sorry about that."

**~ XP ~ XP ~ XP ~**

It took some doing but a few hours after Hagrid arrived Xander finally gotten most of his backstory out of the giant man.

Evil wizard attempts to kill prophesied hero and gets blasted by ancient protection. All that was left was finding out he had a bit of the evil wizard stuck to his forehead or something. Xander chucked darkly at the thought and then subconsciously his hand went to the thinning scar on his brow.

Narrowing his eyes he turned to look at the green eyes staring back at him from the reflection in the hallway mirror. His eyes went to the scar slowly fading away and he thought back to the pain on his first day back in the cupboard under the stairs. Hagrid had kipped out on the sofa in the parlor and the Dursley's had headed back up to bed a long time ago.

He sighed and turned away to head back up the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4 - interlude

**Interlude - Harry Harris - 1**

Harry whirled around pointing his wand at the moving figures wandering the night. He swore as he noticed the change in location. but was confused as the customary feeling of a portkey or side-along apparition was absent.

One of the nearby monsters rushed him and he dodged to the side and yelled, "Stupify!"

As the three foot high horned imp passed him, the bolt of red spell light hit the imp which fell to the ground knocked out.

"Xander, it's me Willow!" a girl yelled, running up to him.

"Who?" Harry asked, looking at the red haired teen who was gesturing with her hands in front of her animatedly.

"Xander, this isn't the time for jokes," Willow said seriously.

"Explain, exactly what in the name of Merlin is the big idea around here," Harry said, holding his wand tightly.

"You don't know me?" Willow asked in a wavery voice, her forehead wrinkling in confusion.

"Miss," Harry looked at her again, the lack of recognition in his eyes freezing her to the spot, "the streets aren't safe tonight." He looked around. "Where's the bloody aurors?" he muttered under his breath. "You should hide in a nearby house Willow." He said turning to walk towards a nearby porch.

"Xander, wait!" Willow said trying to move in front of Harry only to pass right through him.

Harry spun around and looked at her. "Dammit, I hate walking through ghosts," he said shivering. "And how the bloody..." he trailed off before finding his voice again. "You look more solid than the usual ghost I see."

Harry pointed his wand at the ghost and prepared to cast one of the few spells he new that could affect the incorporeal creatures.

"Xander Wait! I'm on your side, I swear!" Willow fast talked. "Something crazy is going on, I was dressed as a ghost for Halloween, a-and now I am a ghost," Willow said weakly, the situation starting to get to her. "And, you were originally supposed to be a—a soldier, but changed your mind and now I guess you're a wizard or something."

Harry kept his wand up, he didn't survive a year of school with Alastor Moody even if it was the fake one without realizing the importance of the grizzled auror's catch phrase, 'Constant Vigilance,' and he wasn't about to forget it now.

"Well? Say something," Willow demanded.

"Shush, I'm thinking," Harry said, just then a growling thing ambled towards them and Harry raised his wand.

"No! No spells," Willow shouted moving into his line of sight. "There's still a little kid in there."

"So, they've been affected by a spell?" Harry asked. "shove over and let me try and cancel the spell."

Willow looked at him searchingly, "promise?"

"I promise, the only spell i'm going to use is a cancelling one," Harry said reading his wand as she stepped moved away.

"Finite incantatem," he said and the girl stumbled a bit, looking confused before the growl reasserted itself. He tried again pushing a bit more power into the spell, this time the effect was more permanent as the girl separated from the costume and her human appearance was restored.

Willow stared at him for a moment before rushing to the girl who was curled up on the sidewalk, rocking back and forth. Harry looked over at the imp he'd knocked out earlier and cast again turning the imp into a seven year old boy.

After they managed to calm the girl down, Willow yelled, "Buffy!" having spotted her friend walking down the street with a confused expression.

'Buffy' looked at her, confused and then past them as another two monsters walked up the street towards them, as she caught sight of the deformed faces she fainted. Harry cast another three finites, one for Buffy and two for the monsters.

Buffy's wig fell off immediately, but Harry had to cast the spell a second time for one of the monsters.

The two costumed kids joined their growing party and Harry pointed his wand at Buffy who was still lying on the grass knocked out from fainting. "Levicorpus," he intoned and turned to Willow. "Let's go get your body, we can't simply leave it lying there on a night like this."

Willow nodded in agreement. "It was down the street over there."

When they finally reached the house they'd manage to gather the majority of the group of children and end the spell on them.

"Lay back down in your body so I can get you and your body with the spell at the same time," Harry said, and then quickly cast the spell on her when she'd done so, a moment later she started breathing again. Harry used a few diagnostic spell's he'd learned from his frequent visits to the hospital wing during his time at hogwarts to make sure they were both ok while Willow explained what was going on to Buffy.

"Not to be rude or anything, but," Buffy said steadying herself, "could we have Xander back now?"

Harry snorted. "I'd prefer to be back with my own body as well," he said, pointing his wand back towards himself. Only this time when he cast the spell he stumbled and his vision seemed to swirl with thousands of colors before snapping back into focus. "What the hell?"

"Xander?" Willow asked hopefully.

"Not exactly," Harry muttered.


	5. Chapter 5 - Diagonal Alley

Breakfast was an odd affair, interrupted by the noise of an owl scratching at the kitchen window.

"Let the bird in would you, Harry?" Hagrid said groggily.

Xander opened the window, amazed that the small owl was clutching a thickly rolled paper tightly by the string holding it closed, which it promplty dropped on the counter with an exasperated sound of relief before flying straight to Hagrid's coat draped over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

"Hagrid," Xander asked. "Is it normal for an owl to attack your coat?"

Hagrid blearily stumbled into the kitchen and dug out five little bronze coins placing them in a pouch tied to the owl's leg. Explaining about the owl and the paper as he went.

Xander eyed the coins nervously and wondered aloud how he would afford his school supplies, realizing that magic or not even wizarding school cost something.

"Well, ya didn't think yer parents left you with nothing, now did ya?" The man replied.

Xander eyed the half giant, "I suppose not."

"First stop o' the day is Gringotts, Wizarding Bank," Hagrid said, dishing himself some of the food Xander had laid out.

"Run by Goblins," Hagrid said in between bites.

"Goblins?" Xander dropped his fork. Images of every entry Giles' library had on goblanus dokkaebi brought to the forefront of his mind.

"Yeah, well used to be, anyway. The dwarves and gnomes did a hostile takeo'er at the end o' the last year o' the war." Hagrid said. "The dwarves locked the place down the day you-know-who was defeated. Still safest place in the world to keep valuables — cept maybe Hogwarts, gotta stop there today anyway."

Xander nodded, vowing, as much as he enjoyed slacking, or at least the appearance thereof, to research the subject later.

"Hagrid how'd you get here last night?" Xander asked.

"Flew," Hagrid replied.

Xander shrugged, there was that dream about flying a while back.

"So, Why would it be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Xander asked.

"Spells, enchantments and such. The goblins used dragons to guard the high security vaults," Hagrid replied. Xander felt the instinctive need to lean back in his chair away from the half-giant at the tone of longing in his voice when he spoke of the dragons but the seat left him nowhere to go. "The gnomes and dwarves may have removed most of the dragons, but in spite of that they've only increased the security. Even if anyone did manage their way into a vault to get their hands on somethin' they'd still have to find and fight their way back out."

Xander sat and thought about this for a moment while Hagrid read his paper and they both finished off breakfast.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, putting away his paper.

Xander quirked his head, still getting used to the british terminology for governmental departments. He shrugged on a jacket and asked, "There's a ministry of magic?"

At Hagrids look, Xander muttered, "Of course there's a ministry of magic."

Hagrid pushed himself up with a heavy groan, "We'd best be off to get yer supplies Harry."

"Got everything? Letter?" Hagrid asked opening the door. "Fine day for a walk, train station is just a few streets over from here."

Xander nodded absentmindedly, there was more said after that something about the current minister being a bumbling idiot, but he was too busy going over the implication of an actual governing body for all things magical, "So, what does a Ministry of Magic do?"

"Well mainly keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?" It seemed odd that they'd need to since Sunnydale never had a problem with people ignoring or plain forgetting the weird things that plagued the town.

"Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to everythin'. Nah we're best left alone. "

Xander didn't agree but he decided it wasn't worth arguing the point, so he shrugged it off.

—

When they reached the worn sign declaring The Leaky Cauldron, over a non-descript store front on Chairing Cross road, Xander held back from the door turning to hagrid, "Hagrid?"

"Yeah?"

"You said I'm supposedly famous right? Well might it be best if I went in a bit more inconspicuously?"

"I spose," Hagrid replied with a hint of dissapointment in his tone, almost like he'd been looking forward to being seen accompanying Harry on his first wizarding shopping trip.

Xander breathed a sigh of relief and pulled out a wig and baseball cap from, somewhere, which he firmly jammed down on his head. Best not to question where the wig came from yeh?

—

Xander didn't have much to say about the imposing edifice of Gringotts. The interior however was different. The long counter along the edge was mostly staffed by Dwarves with a few Gnomes running around here and there. Fact was disregarding the obvious signs of magic throughout the place, it carried the same distinguished air and stuffy nature of banks the world over.

There were a few Goblins present, all of which looked fairly young.

"Mr. Potter here to make a withdrawal," Hagrid said when it was finally their turn to speak to a teller.

"And would Mr. Potter happen to have his key?" The Gnome-girl behind the glass squeeked breathily. Gnomes had very little of the jolly appearance of the standard garden gnome statues non-magicals enjoyed placing in gardens. They looked almost human just scalled down, way down. Her hair was dark brown and had small green plants growing in it, their roots tangling and interweaving with the hair.

It did make him wonder where it had been all these years, when Hagrid produced the large key from somewhere when asked; but then he figured given the way the Dursleys acted around him when he first showed up, it probably was better it hadn't been kept with him.

"'m not sure which I prefer," Hagrid commented when facing the prospect of using the recently installed overhead rail system the dwarves had installed as a replacement for the cart system the goblins used.

The rail car was enclosed all the way around with an opening near front for the driver, and windows along the sides. Xander shrugged and ascended the steps of the car into the expanded space within.

A barely noticeable jolt and the cart was zooming deep into the vault system. Xander was impressed even though the cart was definitely swaying on the overhead rail with each turn and change in speed, if not for the windows he wouldn't know they were moving at all.

The stop at his vault was mostly uneventful though it left his knees feeling week at the mountains of coins within.

He was almost sad they'd decided to switch to the overhead rail car system when they had to switch to one of the older goblin made carts to stop at a another vault on "Hogwarts business," as Hagrid put it. The older system was exhilerating, but he could see how it would be offputting for some of the older people that kept their money in the bank's vaults.

With that accomplished, they where off to shopping. They started with 'Madam Malkin's' as it was right next to the bank.

"Say, Harry do you mind if I step out for a moment?" Hagrid asked, when he noticed it would take a moment to get Xander's robes fitted.

"Go ahead," Xander shrugged, not wanting to look eager to lose the adult supervision, as relaxed as it was besides the ride on the older goblin style cart did make the gentle giant look a bit green.

Xander took his place to wait to get fitted.

"Hogwarts?" Xander looked up at the voice, he gave a nod, quietly snarking to himself, 'where else?'

"Any idea where you'll be sorted?"

Xander just shrugged, Hagrid having explained about the houses on the way to the alley. "Not a clue."

"I think I'd leave if I was sorted into Hufflepuff," the blond blathered on heedless of the darkening expression on the face of Thaddeus Fletcher the tailor, with a 'Hufflepuff Yellow' tie, working behind him with rather sharp needles.

Xander gave an apologetic look to Thaddeus. If Slytherin was about cunning, then Hufflepuff would be the perfect house for a true Slytherin, especially if their reputation was anything close to what the blond ponce kept going on about, no one would ever suspect them. Besides there was nothing wrong with getting your hands dirty with hard work.

Yep nothing wrong with hard work, even better though, was learning magic to get the hard work done faster.

—

"Curious, very curious," the old man said.

Xander's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, that's not creepy at all, and what's curious?"

"That you should be destined for this wand, when its brother... Why, its brother, gave you, that scar!" Ollivander exclaimed.

"Well, isn't this just the start of a beautiful partnership then isn't it," Xander quipped, staring at the stick of holly.

"Make no mistake Mr. Potter, while the wands may have been brothers, your wand is fully yours. The wand does choose the wizard," Ollivander reprimanded lightly.

"Speaking of, where exactly am I supposed to carry this thing?" Xander asked still holding the wand out like it was something dangerous, instead of a beautifully crafted stick with a bit of magical animal stuffed inside, which being a wand, in the right hands it absolutely was dangerous.

"Not many young wizards and witches think of such things," Ollivander said, with a hint of approval. "Might I recommend a wand holster from Claudius Corra," the old wand maker continued without missing a beat. "His shop is just down the way."

Xander hummed, giving the wand a stirring motion towards the ceiling. He smiled slightly at the colored sparks the tip shed. "Am I doing that?"

"It's a spell placed on the shop to help identify a good response," Garrick Ollvander replied, exasperation seeping into his voice. "Would you mind putting that down before you poke an eye out?"

Xander looked up, quickly setting the wand back in the box, "Sorry."

"This one still doesn't feel quite right, it's better than all the others, but," he trailed off at the artificier's expression. "Say, it wouldn't be possible to use other items as a foci would it?" Xander asked.

"Staffs were big centuries ago, but fell out of use with the statute of secrecy, though I still get an order every now and then from curse breakers," Ollivander offered.

"Hmm, hard to break and can be used to thump most animals when attacked," Xander muttered.

Ollivander looked a bit scandalized at the thought of someone using a magical implement in such a manner, but nodded. Even if they weren't intended for such use, when crafted well, they were exceptionally hard to break.

"They're mainly for area of effect and larger magics though, not meant for learning with, and the cost can be prohibitive, same for gems," the old wand maker said, "Every now and then I get a request to affix a gem to an existing foci, mostly topaz and sapphire."

"Any other options?" Xander asked.

The wand maker gave him a shrewd stare, "there are... rings, and bracelets, both have been used by different magical traditions, and to varying effect, I haven't made any myself, but I do have a book regarding their creation, which I'm willing to part with for 3 galleons."

Xander handed over the galleons. When Ollivander returned with the book he mentioned conspiratorily, "While I normally wouldn't mention the subject given the darker nature of most of them, rituals, though some of which include foci use, generally do not require a foci turning the ingredients and the very body of the participant into a powerful channel for magic. They are also less common and considered dark in part due to their often sacrificial nature. I say as much, not to warn you away from them in particular but to advise you to only perform them after first reading and understanding all the disclaimers and warnings. Rituals oft bring about unintended consequences for those who fail to account for all the steps or the nature of the powers they call upon."

Xander gulped and gave a slight nod filling the information and observations away as he accepted the small tome from the wandmaker. "Thank you Mr. Ollivander."

A short time later Xander was headed back up the alley with his wand tucked into a brand new holster attached to his forearm.

On the way back towards the leaky cauldron he spotted Hagrid headed his way carrying an older looking birdcage in which perched a mid-sized juvenile brown owl.

Xander recalled the note on the letter regarding acceptable pets being the somewhat stereotypical ones associated with wizard and witches.

"I 'ad me eye on a beautiful snowy-white, but she wasn't there," Hagrid said sadly. "Dead useful, post-owls. Happy birthday Harry."

Xander took a second look when it seemed some of the feathers shimmered almost polished bronze for a moment.

"Thanks Hagrid," Xander said, finding himself after being momentarily captivated in his examination of the bird. The bird shifted in its cage, staring into his eyes. No one noticed the glint of coppery bronze along the edges of it's wings.

—

"Oh before I forget, you'll want your train ticket," Hagrid pulled xander aside and passed him an elaborate printed gold ticket. "It's more of a souvenir in the long run, but it's been charmed so the muggles see a valid ticket that'll get you to king's cross if needed."

Xander raised an eyebrow, "Nine and three quarters? As far as I know, most train stations count platforms by whole numbers."

"Magic, Harry," Hagrid replied. "ya just walk straight at the third barrier between nine and ten."

"Now, it's getting late. So, we'd best get you home."

Xander looked around the alley, annoyed at the thought of having to leave before he could get a chance to exploit, ahem, thoroughly explore all the shops. He silently vowed to himself that he'd be back. Though, he'd still managed to get a fair amount more than was on the list each time Hagrid had popped out for unspecified somethings.


End file.
